Quirrell, Voldemort and The Unfortunate Staircase Incident
by DreamsOfToast
Summary: Quirrell and his Dark Lord are about to gather the unicorn blood needed to keep Voldemort going when things go terribly awry. What happens when your plans of glorious revenge are thwarted? A silly, a healthy sense of morbid humor having, wee bit o' angst giving, and perhaps even true love restoring story.
1. The Boy Who Was Alive

**Chapter One: The Boy Who Was Alive**

" _Quirrell…."_ Hissed Lord Voldemort. Quirrell practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice in his head.

" _Yes My Lord?"_ he replied via the same mental wavelength they seemed to now share.

" _Did you remember the supplies we need for harvesting the unicorn blood?"_ His lord demanded.

" _Yes, yes. I'm not new at this anymore you know. We do this every week."_

Voldemort audibly sniffed through the turban as Quirrell began swiftly descending the staircase that had finally clicked into position. _"I'm still your master don't make me…"_

BAM

ChaThunk

Thunk

Crack

THUNK

"What the fuuu" began Quirrell "Sorry my Lord it felt like I ran into…"

Quirrell audibly gasped as a very confused, very naked Dark Lord emerged in a puff of rancid red smoke beside him.

"… a person…" he finished with a stutter.

They both gaped at each other not even noticing Quirrell's turban flutter in tatters to the floor.

Their eyes met. Then they both turned as one towards the bottom of the staircase where a disembodied shin and shoe could be seen.

"A leg? A leg? Why just a leg?" stammered Quirrell not knowing where to look or what to think in this situation. Voldemort gave a snort of annoyance, but his eyes were clearly full of awe at having a complete body as he somewhat clumsily started navigating the stairs.

"My Lord let me help…" A biting look from Voldemort shut him up fast, but he stayed close as they went to investigate the shoe. Voldemort leaned down and poked it cautiously, then removed a shimmering cloak.

Revealing the still warm, glossy eyed stare of Harry Potter.

"Potter?" Voldemort looked completely shocked and sat down heavily on his bare ass. He looked up wide eyed as Quirrell leaned down to check his pulse.

"He's dead. That must be why you're… you. Now."

"But… My revenge… I had plans…"

"Well, either way we did it my Lord. I mean, you, you did it."

"I did it..?"

"Well… yes…" Said Quirrell Sitting himself across from his Dark Lord on the cold winter stone. "I mean… I um…"

"My eyes, Qurirrell. Are. Up. Here."

"Oh! Sorry Mt Dark Lord! I was just thinking…"

"Clearly you weren't thinking." Voldemort stated icily and repositioned himself from splayed, spread eagle into a slightly more dignified sitting position. Voldemort was starring at his hand and still had a distinct air of shock, every movement of his body seeming clumsy in a body unused to movement.

"Quick!" hissed Voldemort, "I hear footsteps!"

"Why not just kill them?"

"Idiot! I will NOT be known for taking my glorious revenge on an 11 year old boy by bumbling into him! Naked!"

Quirrell nodded and moved the body to the wall as the Dark Lord covered them in the invisibility cloak. They both quickly realized the relic was not made with two grown men and a corpse in mind and they found themselves awkwardly pressed together and half crouched over the body of the boy.

"Why did this have to happen now? It's cold," complained Voldemort as he repositioned himself against Quirrell.

"My Lord, no need to feel embarrassed. I understand, and besides it's still quite impressive."

"If I had a wand I would kill you right now…"

Quirrell quickly shushed his Lord trying desperately to change the subject but Voldermort's indignant glare did not escape his notice.

Dumbledore rounded the corner, in a stately green robe humming a jaunty tune. He had a small skip in his step and looked like he was perhaps a bit tipsy. Voldemort groaned softly and Quirrell shot him a warning glance. They watched silently as the headmaster danced past them to climb up a long staircase and finally turn out of sight once again.

"Quirrell…"

"Yes Master?"

"You know that awful dream where you're naked at school?" muttered Lord Vodemort growing more and more agitated with each word. "Well this is NOT how I envisioned my triumphant return! What even the FUCK. How do we make this right Quirrell? I DEMAND we make this right!" To punctuate his anger he gave The Boy Who Was Alive a swift kick as he stood up throwing the cloak off of the three of them.

Quirrell's mind began racing searching for a solution to please his very furious, very naked Dark Lord. He knew he only had mere moments… but there it was! The answer! He began stripping off Harry Potter's non invisible cloak.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?"

"First we shall get you properly dressed."

The Potter boy's cloak was comically small on the Dark Lord and reached only his knees. He then used the scraps of his headdress to close it like a belt. " _Passable"_ decided Quirrell thinking of witches and wizards of Germany who currently favored a shorter cloak and wide set pants. Voldemort had no pants… but… well, it WAS passable. If not exactly modest he was covered up. Mostly.

"So now I'm wearing a child's clothes? Much better." Stated Voldemort dripping with sarcasm. "I'd take your clothes but we'd have the same damn problem."

"I'm sorry I'm so short my Lord."

"So what is the grand plan to fix the mess?"

"We continue the original plan tonight." Said Quirrell seriously, looking deeply into Voldemort's eyes, "We take his body. We hide it. We get the Philosopher's Stone. We know how to do it and we'll do it tonight. Now. We contact the other Death Eaters. We create our own story. Tell our own ledged. You retrieved your body. You killed him gloriously and with flare! We take over the world. We burn this damn place to the ground."

Voldemort grinned, "I just remembered why you're my favorite."

Quirrell licked his lips. He flushed and turned from Voldemort to the corpse of Harry Potter. This was going to be a busier night than collecting unicorn blood, but he could do it. They could do it. Together.

They would be together. At least until the nights end, when he would watch Voldemort step forward to rule. Leaving him in the Dark Lords shadow. Leaving him alone.


	2. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

**Chapter 2: Somewhere Over the Rainbow**

Quirrell knew he was weak of will and far too sensitive for the life of secrets and crime he had found himself living since meeting Voldemort. He had resigned himself to accept that he would never be a strong man, a man of drive or of purpose. He had assumed he would be his small town's tutor all his life. That one day he would be old and alone and would remain that way until he died quietly and unremembered.

Finding the Dark Lord had changed all of that.

Well, most all of it.

Of course he would still die. He had seen it in his Dark Lord's mind. As clearly as he was sure the man had seen his feelings. He could not be allowed to someday share the story of great Lord Voldemort living on the back of some head.

" _Of course,"_ mused Quirrell, _"This whole naked staircase incident doesn't help matters much. But what does it matter to me? I devoted myself to him long ago."_

Quirrell turned his mind back to the present.

Back to the plan.

To an outsider it would look as though Quirrell were walking alone. Of course Voldemort and Harry's corpse were right beside him, covered by the invisibility cloak. They snuck up the moving staircases walking as quietly and as quickly as they could manage with a mostly naked Dark Lord and famous dead wizard under an invisibility cloak could.

Quirrell found himself in a strangely happy state of mind. He was ready to restore Voldemort's throne. He was also very excited for the first challenge.

They'd been rehearsing for months!

"It's odd," Muttered Quirrell "Not to hear your thoughts in my head."

"I talked aloud to you plenty."

"I know, but whenever we were sneaking you would always chastise how loud I was being."

"I could still," grunted Voldemort, "But I'm actually being quiet. Unlike some. Who like to talk too much." The other man paused then, "Consider yourself chastised. Are we at the right spot yet?"

"Just about my Lord! Right after this staircase moves over a row." Whispered Quirrell.

As they were waiting a worrying thought occurred to Quirrell. He could hear Voledmort panting while they waited for the stairs. "Wait, My lord! Will you be fit enough for these challenges? Will you have enough breath for the-?"

"Yes! Yes!" interrupted Voldemort sounding annoyed, "I know what to do. Most of the challenges don't require much physical activity anyways."

"But sir! There could be some we don't know. We only had time to ferret out a few of them…"

"I am the Dark Lord Quirrell. I shall manage." The Dark Lord replied in a voice that demanded obedience.

Quirrell bowed to where Voldemort's disembodied voice was coming from.

"Besides," grunted Voldemort in a friendly tone "We've been practicing this damned thing for months. I don't think you would let me get away with merely chopping the boy's body up and pretending he didn't fall down a bloody staircase."

Quirrell found himself smiling despite himself. _"If only I could freeze this moment in time… small puddle of blood from Potter's body and all."_

 _"Wait…"_ Thought Quirrell, _"Small puddle of blood?"_

"Oh! He's leaking! Let me clean that up!" Said Quirrell bending down and readying the edge of his cloak to mop up the evidence. A quick dab had the spots cleared and Quirrell looked up to try to see the source of the blood to staunch the wound.

 _"Penis!"_ Thought an alarmed Quirrell.

"Have you had quite enough?" Demanded Voldemort. Quirrell could see now that he was underneath his Dark Lord's stolen cloak and effectively up skirting him.

He blushed furiously and stood up blubbering, "I am SO sorry my Lord!" He was eternally grateful to whatever god or luck made the staircase move into alignment at that moment. He rushed forward and could hear Voldemort following swiftly behind. He thought he heard a soft chuckle.

Then they stood before the door to the first challenge in retrieving the Philosopher's Stone.

Now that they were in a forbidden and remote area of the school, Voldemort removed the invisibility cloak revealing his gaunt face and The Boy Who Was Alive. Quirrell took over the levitation spell.

"Do you need a second My Lord? My research implied it will be just beyond the door and we will need to perform immediately."

"I am prepared. Do not lose Potter's body. I don't want him eaten."

Quirrell bowed his head in acknowledgement and reached out to open the door. They moved fast and entered.

Quirrell's nose was assaulted first by the smell of wet dog and rank breath. Next he heard the growling and lastly saw the beast looming above him as Voldemort cast a spell for light. Its eyes caught the light menacingly.

The beast was giant and had three snarling dog like heads. Drool pooled on the floor and the chamber seemed covered in grime and dust.

Quirrell cleared his throat. Then he hummed a single clear note. He could see his Dark Lord nod from his peripheral vision _. "Good."_ Thought Quirrell, _"he has the note, I have the monster's attention and we can begin."_

"Some~where o~ver the Rain~bow…" Quirrell began singing and he heard Lord Voldemort join in surprisingly sweet tenner. His Lord's voice was clearer than it had been during their practice sessions. Of course he had just been a head then. Quirrell was impressed by Voldemort's voice at full power.

They continued their duet.

"Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far~

Be~hind me~"

Quirrell could see the dog's three heads grow droopy, eyes fighting to stay focused on their performance. He made eye contact with Voldemort and nodded. Time to initiate phase two.

Quirrell raised his wand causing the Potter boy's body to sway in a dancing motion he and Voldemort copied. The door on the other side of the room was in site. One more verse, some careful dancing and they were home free.

"Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where~ you'll~ find~ me~"

The beast was now snoring softly but they continued their song and dance number. They reached the door, opened the door… Through!

Quirrell turned to congratulate his master, when suddenly; they sank into the floor and were in a cold, powerful grip.

"What is this Quirrell? This isn't one we expected!" yelled Voldemort.

Quirrell realized they were in the grip of hundreds of vines. He could feel the rough appendages twining around him. They were squeezing him tighter. He needed to think. Quirrell took a deep breath to steady his nerves so he could figure this problem out.

He gasped as his calm mind allowed him to pass effortlessly through the mass of plant life and fall below into the next room. Quirrell darted his eyes quickly from side to side and sighed with relief. He was safe. For now.

"Quirrell?" He heard distantly, as the Dark Lord panicked, "Where are you?"

"It's Devil's Snare My Lord! Relax your mind and body and it shall let you go!"

"Easier said than done!" replied an annoyed Dark Lord. Quirrell could hear the effort to breath in his words.

 _"He needs to relax or he's going to die."_ Quirrell realized with a piecing ache.

"Focus on my voice! Relax your muscles! Let go! Breath!" in response Quirrell heard only a faint gasps. He took a steadying breath, squeezed his fists together and began to sing.

"Some~where~ over the rain~bow

Blue~birds fly~"

His voice cracked. _"What if this doesn't work? What will I do?"_ He cleared his throat and continued. _"Please don't die on me! Please!"_

"Birds fly over the rainbow.

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow~

Why~ oh why~

Can't I~? "

Thunk!

Grunt!

Voldemort fell practically into Quirrell's arms. He quickly blinked away worried tears and regained his composure. Quirrell went to release the Dark Lord so he could stand on his own but their eyes met and Quirrell lost himself completely in Voldemort's dark eyes. They were pools of ambition and dark night. Swirling forever, the eyes of a man would could live forever and rule everything.

The moment seemed to last forever to Quirrell. He was unable to even think or notice his surroundings. Then Voldemort moved away and the spell was broken.

"Damn it!" The Dark Lord cursed, " How the fuck?"

That's when Quirrell noticed Voldemort was naked. Again. He must have slipped right out of his cloak when he fell. Quirrell couldn't help himself and laughed.

Voldemort glared. "Shut up! And hand me your cloak. Bloody damn it!"

It was at that moment the Devil's Snare decided to release the Potter boy's body. It made a wet crunch as it landed on top of Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the one who would rule the world.

Quirrell lost it and his laugh echoed through the room as Voldemort cursed on the floor before finally joining in. The situation too ridiculous not to make the two collapse into tear filled laughter.


End file.
